


Crickets and Cicadas

by iamamuggle14



Category: Outer Banks (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Based on S:1E:8-The Runway, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Kiara (Outer Banks) Needs a Hug, Kiara's Kook Year (Outer Banks), Minor Anxiety attack, Missing Scene, One Shot, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:47:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27776365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamamuggle14/pseuds/iamamuggle14
Summary: Kiara gets a call one night during her Kook year after news breaks out that Big John goes missing and is presumed dead that forces her in difficult position.
Relationships: JJ & John "Big John" Routledge, JJ & Kiara (Outer Banks), JJ/Kiara if you squint
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	Crickets and Cicadas

**Author's Note:**

> This was based off the conversation where Pope accused Kiara of not being there during her Kook year, when Big John went missing. I like to think it wasn't exactly what it looked like, that it went deeper than her just blowing all of them off.

She must’ve been staring at the picture for an hour, it felt like, although it would not have been the first time and surely wouldn’t be the last. Apparently it was her new favorite pastime and she couldn’t really find it in herself to stop. Even hours after what had to be one of the more uncomfortable parties she’s gone to during the most hellish year of her life, after obtaining the ever-present reputation of a snitch, she couldn’t bring herself to stop her ticks, her sad attempts at drowning the words that refused to leave her head. Nervous habits born out of the need for distraction seemed to only grow by the day and she only pretended not to notice, needing a little dignity by the end of the day and all.

As soon as she had gotten home from the sweaty, dark, tear-filled walk, she sloppily pulled off the beer soaked button-down and threw it to the side, dropping to the plush rug at the end of her bed with a pair of earbuds and stretched, trying to lower her angry heart rate. Luckily she hadn’t drank much at all, though that didn’t make the walk home any less dangerous. Ever since the night she had come home drunk off her ass, her parents had taken her keys away and refused to give them back until she “had the decency to hold herself at a higher standard.” She hated it, tried to get a ride when she could but this particular night was one of the ones that didn’t end in someone wanting to be that relatively generous to her. In fact, it was one of her favorites, one of the ones that ended with a beer getting dumped down her front as someone went on and on about “how low does someone have to be to call the fucking cops?” 

She then moved on to carelessly folding some laundry that had piled up over the weeks of not keeping on top of her chores, which was really just taking the brand new shit she and Sarah had bought oh so long ago and moving it from one pile to another. Finding the tags still attached didn’t give her nearly as much pleasure as thinking of all of the places she could donate it. She never cared to return and never kept the receipts for that reason, after all, she usually bought things she liked and only held a few things close, hating the feeling of needlessly owning too much. When she was with Sarah, though, she had the pleasure of a rude awakening having to do with the fact that her clothes were considered ‘out-of-style’. It was something that put a sour taste in her mouth, the realization that she had arrived at a place in her life that keeping up with what was ‘in’ was what filled her closet and drawers and not the times where she’d lose a crop top or a hoodie, go out to replace it and only later find it stuffed into the cushion of the pullout at the Chateau or forgotten on the screened-in porch. She would make sure to keep her clothes to a minimum if she could help it because sometimes she couldn’t from all of the dresses her mother and relatives bought for her, assuming they were obviously the only thing she wanted when it came to birthdays, holidays and family get-togethers. She was grateful for them, really, but she’d be lying if she said she got more enjoyment out of unwrapping the gown bags than she did donating them to women who would otherwise never own one. The thought was distracting enough, until the remnants of the stress of trying to camouflage herself into her Kook life came creeping back, and it ended in a sloppy pile of tags and material one would never want to stain or else. 

Throwing her earbuds aside, she started to rearrange the plethora of dog eared ink stained notebooks and journals that littered her unusually messy desk and that’s when her tired swollen eyes found the damn picture. Then nothing else matters in the time in which she not so gracefully loses herself.

It’s about two years old now, she realizes dimly, as she slowly lowers herself into the small folding chair and stares, wanting nothing more than to revisit the memory, despite the ache it brought. The push-pinned photo depicted the day in which Pope was finally the proud owner of a polaroid camera, the one he couldn’t stop obsessing over for weeks, so much so that John B. and JJ had decided to combine some money they had been saving up and surprise their friend on his birthday. It was a hot day, the sun beating down on them as they situated themselves on the little fishing boat, John B. giving both JJ and Kiara a look, letting them know it was time. Earlier that day, JJ had pulled Kiara aside and showed her the purchase, telling her about the plan to surprise Pope on the boat and she could barely conceal her excitement. 

“Hey Pope, you want anything?” John B. had asked, gesturing to the coolers in the back. Pope made a noise, glancing at him over his book. 

“No. All you guys ever bring is beer, like the underage drinkers you are- “

“Really?” JJ asked innocently, pushing his sunglasses down his nose, giving his friend a look and jumping over to stand next to John B., leaning down into one of the coolers. 

“Not even this?” He held up the small box with the camera. 

“I don’t think that’s beer,” Kiara muttered with a serious expression, playing along.

“We don’t always bring beer,” John B. said, half offended but with humor behind it. He gave Kiara a wink, walking over to sit next to her. 

Pope was never one for being overwhelmingly expressive. It was always more internal, but even then, a slow hint of a smile fell on his face, his eyebrows raised. 

“No.” 

“Yes.” John B. was beaming, looking between Pope and JJ, giving Kiara an excited nudge. 

“No, do not mess with me- “

“We’re not messing with you dude, c’mon, just take it.” JJ made it out like he was about to throw it at Pope, who dropped his book and brought his hands up to catch it. 

“I swear, if this is a joke- “

“Or, ya know, I could just drop it in the water, and we’ll never speak of it again, that sound good- “ JJ held out his arm over the edge of the boat, a tight grip on the box but a look of amusement on his face when Pope shot out of his seat.

“Give me the box.” 

After that, John B. claimed that they needed to see if it worked, which left them all pressed against Popes side as he held out the camera at arm's length, aiming it towards their faces. 

As she stared at the picture now, which was faded at the edges and had some discoloration, she couldn’t help but smile, wanting to relive that day more than anything. John B. and JJ both had their tongues sticking out, even though Pope had specifically said it was a “serious” photo. All of their hair was wet from swimming and their shoulders were burned, JJ’s already peeling from how little he cared to use the sunscreen Kiara would always shove in his face. 

Everything seemed so much more simpler back then, to the point where she envied the girl in the picture. She had it so easy, she thinks, not feeling like a stranger in her own skin. Not overthinking every single move she made, just going with the flow. She misses the carefree feeling almost as much as her old life and it immediately brings a wave of ache in her chest and throat. 

A small sound from behind her disrupts her focus, making her realize how long she had immersed herself in the memory. She turns, seeing the screen on her phone lit up on her bed, almost buried in the clothes, before it fades to black. Slowly getting to her feet, she braces herself for who it is, knowing that if it was Sarah, she didn’t trust herself to not throw it out of the window. 

Instead, her stomach drops anyway at the sight of JJ’s name on her screen, specifically attached to the three missed texts over the last hour. 

Her mind immediately attacks her with worry. She had only texted JJ once or twice a week over the last six months and the conversations were not what could be considered deep. Sometimes it would be her, shooting a quick text asking how things were at home and how Pope, Big John and John B. were doing. He wouldn’t go into much detail, but the quick responses always left her feeling included in a way she knew probably wouldn’t last, so she cherished the short conversations. She learned to just take what she could get. Occasionally, JJ would be the one to set off her phone, asking how she was liking the academy and if everyone was really as bad as she made them out to be. She never wanted to seem too desperate, even though deep down she was miserable as hell and keeping it from people like JJ seemed so fucking impossible at times. So she kept her responses short and sweet, never longer than his, hoping to not give away too much of what she was feeling. It was sort of pathetic, but she really couldn’t help herself.

After all, after essentially ditching them as she saw it, she knew she didn’t deserve a listener like JJ, because that boy could listen for hours and not ask for anything in return and it pained her sometimes, seeing how quickly he would drop everything just to give her his time. Especially when she could count the amount of times she’s heard him simply complain on one hand.

Before she gets the chance to read the texts, her phone starts vibrating and the whole screen shows his contact. She swallows the knot in her throat and answers. 

“Hello?”

There’s a long pause, making her check the screen again. 

“Hey, Kie.” 

Hearing his voice, the nickname, both she hasn’t heard in months, it’s daunting. The two syllables were tight and short.   
  
“Is everything okay? Are you- “

“I’m fine. Everything’s good, I was just…” 

She lets the silence take over, hearing a small static in the background of the call, along with what sounded like uneven breathing. 

“JJ?”

“Yeah, uh, are you at home?”

“Yes.” She says it more like a question, unconsciously looking at the clock and reaching for a T-shirt. 

“I was wondering if you could talk? Uh, you know, I could pick you up- ”

“Yeah, sure.” She pulls out one of her older, worn out baggier T-shirts that she would never wear out of the house in her Kook life, wanting to feel more like herself, wanting to feel comfortable. She hears a few muffled noises on the other end of the call before slipping on her sandals. 

“Okay, I’ll be there in a few.”

“All right- “

“Kie, can you- can you stay on the phone?” JJ rushes out, as if trying to stay calm.

She can feel her pulse in her hand as she grabs the door handle, nodding her head even though they can’t see each other. 

“Yeah.” she says gently, reassuringly, “Yeah, I’m right here.”  
\--  
Neither of them speak in the time it takes for JJ to drive over. She had no idea where his head was at and it scared her, not knowing what she was about to witness, although the idea of actually seeing him relieves some of the tension. The air was warm, not too humid and not too dry. As she sits on the steps at the front of her house, she holds the phone to her ear, listening to the calm noise of the crickets and frogs along with the hum of the engine through the phone. Since she didn’t live in the Cut, her house wasn’t as close to many dense wooded areas or small ponds of water, but occasionally, when there wasn’t the sound of music blaring through the neighbors yard or drunk yelling and laughing from late night last minute parties, it was almost peaceful. 

As soon as she saw the headlights of Luke Maybanks truck, she shot up, doing an awkward mix between walking and running towards the road, not bothering to turn the phone off. Instead of climbing in at the passengers side, she walks around the back to the drivers side, where the door takes a minute to open. It’s dark out, making it hard to see in the cab until the door pops open and the lights turn on, revealing JJ, who turns his body to hop out of the seat, nearly stumbling instead. It’s cliche, but it’s like seeing a ghost. She quickly holds out her arms, reaching to support him. 

“JJ? What’s wrong?” She’s holding his elbow and his shoulder, watching as his eyes search the ground, lost. His hands shake against her arms as he tries to find his breath, standing up a little straighter as she says his name again. 

“They’re saying he’s gone, Kie. The papers, everyone’s talkin’- “ He vaguely gestures behind her, “They’re saying he’s dead- “

“Hey, hey, slow down, JJ, hey,” He has his palms on the back of her hands but doesn’t look at her, looking distracted, his eyes scanning behind her and back at her house. As he turns his head, she barely manages to make out a dark bruise blurring the side of his face. Her breath catches as she stiffens, thinking even after all this time she’s thrown away, it’s not how she expected it, their so-called reunion. Not that she was expecting one at all, more hoping for one. 

But not at all like this. 

“JJ, who’s dead? What are you talking about?”

“You haven’t seen the news?” He looks at her, red around his eyes and really looks at her. She shrugs, starting to lose control over her own panic. She squeezes his arms softly.

“Yo, what happened!”

“Big John’s dead!” As soon as he says it, he lets out a choked laugh, running a hand through his hair. “They’re- they’re saying no ones been in contact with him for so long, a-and that since no one’s seen him since- “ 

Her breath leaves her lungs as she stares at him, for what feels like a while, not understanding what he was saying. She slowly shakes her head, opening her mouth to speak as her words die on her tongue. She suddenly felt guilty for not caring enough to read the news. Granted, lately she’s been trying to ignore the tainted headlines which all seemingly revolved around nothing but global warming and corrupt politicians of some sort, but not knowing about this, not reaching out to John B. right away, she might as well ask for his opinion of her to further tarnish. 

“I don’t…” _know what to say_ refuses to leave her mouth, because it sounded dry as hell. It doesn’t seem real, let alone possible. The last time she was over at the Chateau, they were all standing around in the kitchen, holding paper plates and reaching into the box of pizza that Big John had ordered, talking over one another about their plans for the end of the summer. Before everything went to shit and ties were apparently severed. That felt like both a lifetime ago and just the other night and Kiara couldn’t wrap her spinning head around it.

She wasn’t prepared for the thought of how for all of them, especially JJ, it felt like losing a parent. After all, Big John had given JJ something he probably never had; a safe roof over a loving home.

“He’s gone, Kie.” This time he’s watching her, his hands still shaking against hers, his voice still tight. 

“But no one knows for sure- “ JJ cuts her off with a scoff. 

“Well, it depends on who you ask- “

“John B. Is he okay? Did you talk to him?” 

JJ raises his eyebrows, shaking his head as he unsteadily lowers himself to the ground. He pauses, swallowing hard and taking deep breaths, as if finding the right words. 

“I tried. He obviously doesn’t believe it. Doesn’t really like when people try to give him a reality check either.” He chuckles but it’s humorless, making her crouch down next to him. Only a small part of her felt hesitant, felt the weight of spending months apart from each other and no longer seeing someone who was once a steady constant can put on two people. However, the familiarity was still there and it was as comforting as ever. She gratefully leaned into it, clinging on.

“He never really did.” She murmurs, feeling a tightness in her throat. The faint glow from the cabs lights sits on his face, showing that he was crying. 

“I tried and he fucking lost his shit so I went home, and my dad decided he wasn’t in the best mood either, so he…” He rubs his wrist on his forehead frustratedly taking a deep breath, bringing his knees up to his chest as he peers down at his still shaking hands, “and I was just so pissed I couldn’t think straight. And I’m sorry I just- I know we haven't been talking lately and I shouldn’t have called you- “

“Jesus, JJ.” she cries out, causing him to look up at her, alarmed. She irritatedly wipes at her wet eyes, holding back a laugh from all of the pressure, “you’re not seriously giving yourself shit over this right now.”

He narrows his red eyes, studying her face seriously, “What do you mean- “

“I don’t care if you call me! Or if you text! Or if you’re beyond pissed out of your mind and need to get out of the house, JJ, I’m not mad! Okay?” She sighs and tries not to completely crack under his hurt gaze. She speaks slowly, putting emphasis behind her words. “I never gave up on you. Or any of you. I’m still here, don’t you get that?” 

He stares at her, biting his cheek as if trying not to say something he’ll regret. 

“Just please stop apologizing for things you wouldn’t have thought twice about doing before.” 

There’s a mutual silence that sits on the word, one that both of them need to let play out before speaking again. There are a few heartbeats before he clears his throat, his voice sounding strained regardless. 

“I never gave up on you either. And I won’t.” She observes his face for a moment, checking for signs of disguise, finding nothing. She sighs, leaning back against the trucks tired and setting her head on his shoulder, wondering if holding his hand was too much. She squeezed it and he squeezed back, and dammit, if it wasn’t the best thing she’s felt in a while. 

“But I don’t think now is a good time. To talk to them, I mean.” he says quietly, finally breathing calmly, as if the initial shock has worn off, which it most definitely has. She tries not to think of the minute where he found out, if he was alone, if people really are talking about it out in the open. 

“It would look bad and to be honest, you wouldn’t be doing yourself any favors.” 

The words were blunt, so much so that instinct told her to metaphorically retaliate, to stand up for herself, but she knew she didn’t deserve that particular luxury. She deserves to feel the hurt, because the words really fucking hurt. JJ’s words never had such sharp edges, especially when they were directed to her, but this, she thinks, she had coming. Her stomach dropped and her chest felt heavy, but she forced herself to feel it regardless. 

“I know.” 

They sit like that for a while, welcoming the silence, the only interruptions being the low hum of crickets and cicadas. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I would like to expand on maybe :) Kiara's Kook year and how it affected all of the Pogues. I like the idea that she wanted to reach out during her Kook year but couldn't out of trying to not let the damage become irreversible. It makes that conversation between her and Pope much harder to swallow lol
> 
> Thoughts and opinions are welcome!


End file.
